


Which One

by paraboobizarre



Category: The Following
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:53:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4629417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paraboobizarre/pseuds/paraboobizarre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And then time stops. Jacob hears his own breath rattling around in his skull, his sweaty hand clutching the moist beer bottle, something clenching inside him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Which One

The new bane of is life is named Andrew. Paul met Andrew when they were both at lunch in a restaurant downtown. Andrew is a video producer for some hip social media company located in the center of town and Andrew is fucking perfect.  
Andrew is tall and slim and has that handsome kind of face that makes both men and women look at him twice when they meet him for the first time. It's has enough of the ruggedly male but still traces of something softer and feminine that makes women fawn over him and men gravitate towards him for some obscure reason they'd rather not examine too closely. When Andrew smiles the sun seems to shine a little brighter and he has that kind of whole body laugh that should be stupid but, because it's Andrew, is totally infectious.  
Andrew is always impeccably dressed without even trying, slimcut pants that hug his legs, which seemingly go on for miles, casual button-downs, that tread that thin line between casual and business; his hair eternally mussed in just the right way; Andrew has tattoos but they're neither too obvious nor tacky or embarrassing; he has perfect white teeth with just one of the upper incisors being slightly chipped, showing that, maybe after all, Andrew is mere mortal just like the rest of them. Accident in high school, lacrosse, he says as way of explanation one evening when asked about his one, tiny single flaw. And smiles that dazzling smile of his.

Jacob hates Andrew. What's more, Andrew makes it really fucking hard to hate him. Andrew is nice, sweet even, accommodating and funny. He's the kind of guy you would want to swoop in and rescue you at a party where you don't know anyone, because Andrew knows everyone and has a way of introducing you to others that will make you sound like the coolest and most interesting person in the room. Andrew's up for anything. Bowling? Andrew loves bowling! Three day,survival style hikes in the wilderness, camping and catching your own food? Sure thing, that sounds like a lot of fun! Charity zombie walk? Andrew knows a makeup artist that would love to volunteer with the makeup, he'll call her right up!

Andrew hears Jacob is at a loss for ideas where to go on his field trip with his class and suggests they could come to the company where he works, they'll do a video workshop with the kids. The idea is great and Andrew plans the day meticulously, takes almost everything off Jacob's hands, does it for a ridiculously low fee. The day is perfect, the parents and kids are delighted, his headmaster loves him for "his" brilliant idea and his colleagues envy his connections. Jacob hates Andrew even more. 

What's arguably the worst though is Andrew really likes Paul. Like, really _really_ likes him. Andrew doesn't wear a ring, he never mentions a girlfriend, past or present, and, apart from his usual compliments to practically all the females he meets, he doesn't flirt with anyone ever.  
But around Paul he is different. It's like something in Andrew perks up whenever Paul is around, his gaze lingers a little too long maybe, and his smiles become a little too secretive, as if he's enjoying something only he is privy to. 

Even worse still, Paul likes hanging out with Andrew. They go to the gym during their lunch breaks, they meet for drinks after work, they play basketball on weekends. Paul loves Andrew's dogs and sometimes joins them on long, ambling walks in the evenings. Thank god they don't have a beach or this would become a romantic cliche real fast.  
In some irrational sense Jacob feels as if he's in a competition with Andrew for his pretend boyfriend. The real problem being of course, that Andrew would probably very much like Paul to be his real boyfriend, nothing pretend about it. 

Paul, being his ever dense and oblivious self, doesn't see things that way of course. Andrew's nice, he's just a friend, don't get your panties in a twist blah blah blah.  
It's times like these that Jacob wishes he would actually be Paul's boyfriend, because then he'd have legitimate reasons to be pissed off. You can't lay a claim on something you don't possess though and that makes it hard to argue with Paul without sounding petty. 

It's a Friday night and Paul is getting ready to go out. Jacob had said he'd come as well but last minute administration stuff the school bestowed upon him to do over the weekend kind of put a stop to that. Now he's sitting in front of a heap of forms to be filled out as Paul wanders past him into the kitchen, a hint of citrussy cologne following in his wake. The fridge door opens, the squeak of Tupperware being opened, an indistinct sound of displeasure before the fridge door closes again. Jacob turns around in his chair to see Paul munching on the cold leftovers from yesterday's dinner. 

Paul indicates the papers on Jacob's desk with a nod.  
"You sure this can't wait?" He mumbles around a bite of cold quesadilla, bits of food flying from his mouth as he speaks. His pretend boyfriend is a bit of a pig sometimes.  
Jacob opts for a heavy sigh instead of an answer. It could wait, technically. He could do it tomorrow or on Sunday, but the truth is, he is kind of glad for the paperwork because it presents a ready excuse to stay in today. He's not keen on navigating the social mine field that is everyday life for a more or less out couple, even if it's just a pretend one. 

One corner of Paul's lips twists downward to show just how he feels about that, before he washes down the rest of the undoubtedly rubbery cheese tasting quesadilla with a few gulps of milk straight from the bottle.  
"Come on," Paul suppresses a little burp, "I'm sure it's going to be fun."  
Jacob just about refrains from rolling his eyes.  
"Is that Billy talking, or you?"

As silly as the question may seem, it's important. Their real lives and their pretend ones tend to bleed together in all sorts of confusing ways and sometimes it becomes hard to distinguish between what's real and what's not.  
Paul puts down the milk and cracks that little, faux embarrassed smile that's meant to convey, oh, you got me.  
"Billy, as a matter of fact. Because Billy needs to network with his colleagues. Paul wants to stay home, watch HBO and order from that Vietnamese place." He winks at Jacob.

Jacob chuckles, turning over a page to continue filling out this form.

"Too bad," Paul goes on, "Andrew wanted to talk to you about some video thing he thought you might be interested in for school. He tried to tell me, but you know..." and he makes a gesture indicating how all that silly school stuff goes straight over his head. 

At the mention of Andrew's name Jacob sits up a little straighter.  
"Andrew's going to be there?" He asks, cringing at how utterly he fails to make this sound more casual than it is to him.  
Luckily Paul's too busy wrestling the milk bottle back into the fridge to pick up on his tone.  
"Sure. He's the one who invited us, remember?" He tells the bowels of the fridge.

Us. At least, Jacob muses, Andrew had the decency to invite both of them. Paul, blessed Paul, object and aim of all of Andrew's attention and Jacob, the human appendix, the necessary evil to come along with Paul. The gift with purchase you never really wanted.  
Before he is even conscious of it, his hands have crammed the papers together into their folder.

Paul looks at him, genuine surprise flickering over his face.  
"You coming?"  
"Yeah, sure. I could use the distraction." And he'd rather be around Paul when Andrew is there and there's alcohol involved, but of course he can't say that out loud. 

It's not that he doesn't trust Paul. He doesn't trust Andrew, he reasons with himself, as he brushes his teeth, simultaneously trying to get his hair to look somewhat presentable with his other, free hand.  
Besides what reason would Paul have _not_ to take Andrew up on any potential offers? They're not together. An "affair" - what do you call the actual relationship you could have with one man while pretending to be in one with another? - would certainly mar the veneer of the picture perfect, happy couple they put on for Sarah but that's only if, big _IF_ she finds out about this. Which is not likely.  
So why does all this bother him so much?

The party is, and it pains Jacob to admit this even to himself, quite fun. The atmosphere is relaxed and friendly, there's an open bar and soon Jacob finds himself totally engrossed with a conversation with Michelle and Arden, a couple who runs an animal shelter. Paul hangs around for a bit but is inevitably scooped up by some colleague from work. Most banker types seem like eternal frat boys to Jacob; it's just their toys and allowances that have gotten bigger and more expensive and he's still amazed how well Paul manages to blend into this awful crowd.  
He hazards a look over towards the group of bankers, most of them howling at an undoubtedly rather raunchy joke one of them is telling, if the tell-tale gestures are anything to go by.

And then, quite literally out of left field, Andrew makes his way towards Paul's little circle of friends. In true perfect-Andrew-mode the group parts around him like the freaking Red Sea before Moses. There are cries of delight and copious amounts of shoulder slapping because, naturally, they all love Andrew. What's not to love, right? Jacob scowls into his drink. Fucking Andrew, practically perfect in every way. He just wishes a simple change in the direction of the wind would be enough to get rid of him. 

He tries to keep track of Andrew's movements without seeming too obvious or abandoning his conversation with Michelle and Arden.  
"You would not believe the hassle we have with the skunks," Arden gripes, looking over at his wife, seeing as Jacob utterly fails to keep up his end of the conversation.  
"People keep them as pets, if you can imagine!" Michelle adds, but Jacob has already taken a step out of their cozy little circle in the corner.  
Andrew is wriggling a packet of cigarettes at Paul, indicating the balcony door with his shoulder, a broad, hopeful smile plastered all over his face and Jacob hastily gulps down the rest of his beer as he watches Paul separate from his group.  
"I'm gonna get a refill - can I get you guys anything?" He asks.  
"Actually I'd -" Michelle starts, lifting her empty cocktail glass but Jacob never even hears the rest because he's already halfway across the room by this point.

He manages but a few paces towards the balcony door before he feels a massive prank of an arm come down on his shoulder, pulling him backwards.  
"Hiya! Will, right?" An overpowering wave of alcohol infused breath washes against his face as a veritable armoire of a guy leans down towards him, face as red as a cooked lobster, eyes already glassy from too much alcohol.  
The big guy leans heavily on him indicating the rest of the group with a sweeping gesture.  
"We're friends of Billy-boy," he slurs into Jacob's face.  
_Billy-boy._ Jacob tries his hardest to keep his facial muscles under control. Four equally massive guys look down on him, vague confusion written all over their ruddy faces.  
"You know Will, right guys?" The one who pulled him into his sweaty embrace tries again, waving his beer bottle at the others before he leans in closer to his friends, the weight on Jacob's shoulder suddenly doubling.  
"Billy's...boyfriend?' Comes the hushed explanation.  
Ah. The reaction is pretty much the one they usually get. A flash of surprise on everyone's face, quickly followed by polite but somehow guilty interest. Boyfriends. Oh. Right.  
Jacob uses the few moments before anyone can think of anything more to say to excuse himself and duck out from under the massive weight of Paul's friend. 

Absentmindedly he grabs whatever drink is closest at hand at the bar and inches a little closer towards the balcony door. He has half a mind to burst through the door and confront Andrew, but about what? Talking to Paul?

Paul an Andrew are standing side by side, hips almost touching, their arms crossed over the flimsy railing, smoke from their cigarettes curling upwards. Paul says something, his face splitting apart in a huge grin and Andrew cracks up, his shoulders shaking with laughter. There's a light illuminating their profiles from across the street and in the diffused yellow glow Jacob watches the contrast of their features; Paul's more mellow profile, curves swooping down and long, elegant lines and Andrew's harsher one, a long, beakish hawk's nose, reminding Jacob, for one fleeting second, of an illustration of the Man in the Moon in a book his mum used to read to him, when he was a kid. He had been afraid of the Man for a long time.  
The laughter peters out, their profiles becoming more sober and settled again. 

And then it happens. Andrew leans in, his face tilted slightly up towards Paul's, the movement as if in slow motion, the yellow glow between their faces growing smaller and smaller, narrowing almost to a sliver. And then time stops. Jacob hears his own breath rattling around in his skull, his sweaty hand clutching the moist beer bottle, something clenching inside him.

For a moment everything is perfectly still, a scene suspended under water, before Paul pulls back and the world comes rushing back in with a defeaning roar. 

"Hey you. We were wondering where you were." It's Michelle, tapping Jacob lightly on the shoulder. She smiles at him, equal parts concerned and confused.  
"I was just...," Jacob starts, before he realizes he has nowhere to go with this sentence.

"There you are!" An arm wraps around Jacob's shoulder, infinitely less heavy and brutish than the one before, a cloud of citrus and sandalwood enevloping him, hints of smoke. Paul.  
"Babe, you mind if we go home? I've got a blinding headache." He kisses Jacob's temple.

Just before he lets himself be shepherded out of party, Jacob manages to sneak an inconspicuous glance back at the balcony. The light's still there and, outlined in its harsh glow, is the lonely figure of Andrew, arms crossed over his chest, looking down at his feet. 

More lights streak past their faces as they make their drive home. Orange black orange black, steady stroboscopic shards making it seem as if there's movement inside the car even though they both have sat perfectly still for the last fifteen minutes or so. Uncharacteristically Paul tossed im the keys to the car, demanding Jacob drive his ridiculously large SUV.  
Jacob didn't protest, thankful for the excuse not to talk.

"You saw what happened, right?" Paul asks suddenly.  
Jacob chances a glance sideways before he looks back at the road in front of him. Paul is stretched back in his seat, eyes unfocused, staring ahead.  
There's a longer pause, more orange lights flickerig over their faces.

"Why didn't you?" Jacob eventually asks.  
"Because I don't cheat." Comes the immediate answer.

Jacob wants to ask if that's Billy or Paul talking, but he doesn't. He's not sure he'd like the answer. And he's not sure wich one he'd rather hear.

**Author's Note:**

> There could be more little vignettes like this one here, but no promises. I'm on holiday for another week so maybe there's time for a little more.


End file.
